


Burgundy

by I3internet



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Abuse, Arranged Marriage, Historical, M/M, Ooc!javi, Slow Burn, Violence, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I3internet/pseuds/I3internet
Summary: Set in Edo Japan, Yuzuru finds himself face to face with the enemy.Not historically accurate.





	1. A Foreign Husband

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, Japan gets invaded even though there was only ever a Spanish East Indies and no Spanish Japan and everyone's bi.

~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to marry him.”

 

“You don’t even know who it is yet,” his mother soothed.

 

“I don’t care who it is. Either way he’ll be foreign, and I won’t love him,” Yuzuru snapped and turned on his heel angrily. He pushed past his mother before she could stop him and rushed out onto a snowy, empty street. It was well past curfew, but being rational was not high on his list of priorities. He stole down a maze of alleys the invaders would never bother to enter, like secret passages in a castle, using them to evade the guards situated on every street corner.

 

Winter was setting in, and he found himself regretting his recklessness as he shivered. Nevertheless, pride and spite hurried his feet without much input from his brain. He gasped as a shout rang out behind him and ran faster. Before he knew it, he found himself at the grave. It didn’t take up much space, but he knew how deep it was. How many people he used to know were buried here? He had stopped trying to count when they began tossing the corpses in groups, and it became impossible to distinguish how many arms and legs piled up. The scent of rotting flesh had lingered in his sinuses for days after, and the image of his mutilated countrymen’s bodies still burned in his memory like an itch that wouldn’t go away.

 

Snow was beginning to cover the unearthed dirt again, and there would be no evidence come spring. Nothing had been placed to mark the grave. Yuzuru was tempted to be petty and leave something to do so, but he pushed it down for the knowledge that someone would suffer for the act, regardless of whether or not they caught him. He would not bring harm on his people. Not after everything they had already suffered. Tears left tracks of heat down his cheeks as he fought down cries that threatened to escape his throat. He was desperate for some kind of end to the pain that hadn’t left since their arrival.

 

News of Manila’s fall had reached their ports just weeks before the fleet did. News of Tokyo’s just days before. Then he had laughed at the ones who left immediately, mocking their paranoia like many others did. Little did they know, they had much less time than any of them anticipated, and before long their soils had been desecrated by blood. Sendai’s humble wooden temples were torched and replaced with foreign flags; the fletched red crosses oppressive and stifling. When a flag was torn down and burned in the middle of the night, the soldiers had raged and massacred well over fifty men and women as example. The next day a teenager was found dead in his room, with a note explaining his horror and shame, revealing him to be the culprit. His body had been tied up and strung from a gate, and his family forced into slavery.

 

A curfew for the locals followed soon after, as well as commands for the Spanish language and culture to be taught to all schoolchildren immediately. The locals became second-class citizens, and every family was ordered to present a gift to the general by the next full moon. A gift. As if they deserved a gift for turning his home into a prison. Life had become tightly regimented, full of hushed whispers and feigned obedience.

 

He breathed deep and shook himself back to the present, wiping the last falling tears from his jaw. He knelt and bowed, touching the ground briefly with his forehead, before rising and hurrying back.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

A slap greeted him once he got home.

 

Resentment rose in his chest, but it evaporated at the terrified look on his father’s face. He had lost weight since the invasion, and his twisted expression further emphasized the gaunt look.

 

“Hanyu Yuzuru. That was foolish of you; they could have killed you. You saw what they did to the others! We would have never seen you again.”

 

His voice shook with fury, but his eyes softened with a touch of regret, eyeing his cheek apologetically. Another wave of shame washed over his body like a shock of cold water, prompting him to fold his hands on top of each other and bow deeply to his parents, apologizing profusely. To his horror, he felt the calm veneer he had donned crack and slip from his face.

 

“I just— I don’t want to marry one of them,” he pleaded desperately, even though he knew it was no use. His mother sighed and grasped his arm gently, while pain marred her beautiful features. She presses her forehead to his and kisses his hair.

 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way. But you know it’s the only way. We have nothing of material interest to offer them, and Saya is already betrothed to another. Your hand in marriage is the only thing we can offer as a gift and it hurts all of us so much to have to do this, but if we don’t, then we die. Go pack, future spouses are allowed one trunk of their own belongings.”

 

Her voice had hardened by the end, leaving no room for debate. He nodded, bowed once again and fled to his room. In the safety of his bed, he felt his frustration mounting and mounting and tension that rippled through his muscles. He couldn’t do a thing to change his situation without damning his family to death, and there was no one who could help him. Every bit of resistance would be wiped out by force, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. They had murdered his neighbours and yet come tomorrow he was to go and play wife to one of them. His breath quickened and he felt a light sheen of sweat coat his back as his fury grew. He bit down the nausea that rose in his throat, and willed the horror away. As much as he felt like a helpless little child, being used as a puppet to keep the peace, it was his duty, and he would die before daring to forsake a responsibility that kept his family safe.

 

He pulled out a wooden trunk, still shiny and new. He pulled out clothing from his closets and rolled them up before pressing them into the bottom. Then he took them out again, and placed a pair of black skates paired with copper oxide infused blades in the bottom, covering them with the clothing. They were of little value, but one of the few things that still brought him joy. He took a few of his favourite books, and some necklaces and bracelets which he had worn since childhood. Finally, a small toy bear that he had slept with as a baby, and was forever infused with the scent of his home. He slammed the lid down, perhaps a bit too loudly, and cursed his misfortune. He was grudging to sleep and hasten dawn, but the excitement of the evening had taken its toll, and his eyelids were getting ever heavier. He sighed, and laid down to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The square was somber and silent, and Yuzuru saw with horror that the gifts were to be presented on a stage for the soldiers to examine and claim. The general gave them to whoever he saw most deserving.

 

A jade bracelet went to a soldier who had brought his wife with him. An ornate gold plate went to a brash man with a stump leg. Gift after gift was presented; all of his city’s best things given away to foreigners. He jolted as he felt his parents pushing him towards an area roped off behind the stage. A hastily built wooden roof shielded the area from snow, and his mouth went slack as he saw how many others shared his fate. Before he was fully aware, there was a gate shutting behind him and he was just another one of dozens of people. He faced his parents and nearly cried when he saw them both on the ground bowing in _dogeza_. He shed a tear when he saw that they would not stay to see his fate.

 

“Will I ever see you again? Or Saya?” he calls out, voice cracking on his sister’s name. They don’t look back and he nearly screams in frustration when he can no longer see their robes in the distance.

 

As per custom, the person who was marrying up the social hierarchy was dressed in white. An indication of purity, and a willingness to take on the colours of their new family. Everyone around him was wearing white. No jewelry of value adorned their hair or draped their collarbones. If it had they would not be here. Long, wide, flowing sleeves silhouetted their arms and they struggled to avoid stepping on each other’s trains. Yuzuru fiddled with the _haori-himo_ fastened around his waist, and was grateful that at least he did not have to wear the wide _obi_ that the girls did.

 

Wide eyes darted around, white with fear. Some of the younger ones had begun to cry for their parents. Yuzuru felt shame once again at the brash way he had reacted when told the news; this burden had been forced on souls far more innocent than his. A bold young man made a run for it, leaping over the fence, only to be dragged back and knocked into the dirt. Yuzuru refused to turn away as the beating continued, determined not to shy away from pain once again.

 

One by one, they were all led on top of the stage. He could not see what was happening, but could hear the jeers and laughter of the men, and the crying of little sisters and older brothers. Soon, a guard stepped forward and all but dragged him onstage. He did his best to glare at him but was met with nothing with disgust and mocking.

 

The sudden visibility brought by the high position took him by surprise, and he fought to take in the masses, blinking in the sudden bright light. He shuddered as he locked eyes with one of the brutes, who returned the gaze with rude gestures and a claim. They leered and said things to the guard still holding his arm, who laughed and turned him around. He pushed on his back and Yuzuru realized with a shock that they wanted him to bend over for them, as if being gawked at and treated like an object wasn’t humiliating enough.

 

Heat rose to his cheeks, and his mouth twisted in embarrassment. He focused on the floorboards of the stage and breathed in deep, trying to tune the voices out. He was pulled up and spun around again, as the soldiers waited for the general’s verdict.

 

“Fernandez.”

 

A group of men burst into cheers at the name, and they clapped the person they surrounded on the back, pushing him forward to claim his gift. Yuzuru lowered his eyes and looked down as he approached, not wanting to see him before he had to. An awful sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach, making his body roil with unease. A rough hand closed around his bicep and pulled him down the stairs, and a deep voice responded to shouts of what seemed like congratulations from the other foreigners.

 

He was guided into a red palanquin, and the man entered behind him. The curtains were pulled shut. The box shifted before it was hoisted into the air, and began to move. He felt a hand grasp his jaw, and turn his face.


	2. A Slap and a New Home

“How old are you?”

 

The boy only blinked at him and recoiled, eyebrows furrowing and the muscles around his eyes tensing.

 

“How old are you?” He tried again.

 

This time, the boy replied, but with a string of words in the language that he’d heard so much of since their arrival. Just his luck. He got a beautiful boy as a gift, but the little thing couldn’t understand a word he said. He sighed and brought out a sheet of paper and wrote down all the numbers from 12 to 20. Then he thought for a second and crossed out the first four because there was no way he was _that_ young. He turned it around to show to the boy. His smooth brow furrowed over once again and Javier was afraid that he would not understand, but the wrinkles disappeared and he hesitantly lifted a finger, only to drop it again. Javier fixed him with a steely gaze, and he lifted it again to rest on ‘16’.

 

On the young side, but definitely not uncommon. Perhaps his youth would be an advantage, after all, he would be much more impressionable and docile than an older alternative.

 

The boy made a gesture, pointing towards the quill.

 

“No! You should not be writing.” Javier shook his head and sighed once again. So many backward things in this strange country. The boy shook his head with a frustrated expression, pointing outside towards the sky and raising all ten fingers twice, followed by seven, and then he pointed towards the number 17. The boy had turned his face away, choosing to stare out the gauzy screen of the palanquin, eyes glazing over.

 

 

“You will be seventeen in twenty-seven days?” Javier tried to ask. The boy only stared at him blankly. He sighed and groaned in frustration. It was of no matter anyways; he was more than old enough to be wed.

 

There was little about the spectacle that morning that had interested Javier, he lacked neither wealth nor happiness. He had been reluctant when his friends had pushed him to claim, but they pointed out that if the boy wasn’t to his liking he could simply cast him aside, and under their nagging he’d caved. He was beautiful, Javier had to admit, especially lit in the morning light this way. He was all high cheekbones and porcelain skin with a delicate nose. Dark hair rested on top of his head, well groomed for the occasion. Javier imagined what it would look like after a good half hour of tugging. His friends were right. After all, the boy was simply a foreigner; not of much value and it wasn’t like they were officially married.

 

He was disappointed to realize that it would still be improper of him to visit brothels, but reasoned that if it really came down to it, nobody would truly care.

 

Of course, he would be kind enough. This strange creature was still a human, and so long as he kept Javier happy, the boy would be well taken care of. He had to stop calling him that; what was his name? He reached out and tapped his shoulder. The boy flinched and turned to him, shoulders tense.

 

Javier pressed a hand and said his name, then looked at him expectantly. Pink lips twisted and curled before he returned to gazing outside, back turned mockingly. Javier was so shocked that he sat there stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do. It had been a long time since he’d been directly disobeyed or snubbed, and he’d forgotten how it felt to be rebuked. Then a righteous indignation rose in his chest, and he felt himself grow tense and furious. How dare this stupid child mock him!? He reached out and yanked on one of the boy’s ridiculously long sleeves, making the back of his collide with the wall of the palanquin as his body was snapped around.

 

His hair flew up with the movement, and his eyes widened fractionally, as if he were surprised that Javier had it in himself to be rough. At that, Javier grunted and slapped him sharply, pleased at the sight of the boy’s head twisted to the side, resting still. Those peachy lips had fallen open in a gasp, drawing in labored breaths that permeated the silence. They shut, and Javier saw his pale throat ripple with a swallow. He was willing to be kind, even to teach this boy things that his primitive civilization could never have. He had a place though, and they had to be crystal clear about what it was. Like earlier, Javier grasped his jaw and turned his face toward him, rough and sharp. He jabbed a finger into his chest, saying his name through clenched teeth, daring him to continue his insolence.

 

Defiance still glinted in those eyes, furiously bright, but now a hint of fear could be seen as well. Javier found himself strangely pleased at that. The boy dropped his gaze, and Javier relaxed ever so slightly. He murmured something, indistinct. Javier snapped his fingers in his face and motioned for him to repeat it, louder.

 

“Yuzuru.”

 

Yuzuru. Javier released the sleeve he’d been clenching this whole time and turned the name over in his mouth. What a strange name. He watched Yuzuru turn to look through the screen again. He took in his form; a lithe body curled in on itself, with slightly hunched shoulders. He felt a shiver of regret and resolved to be more considerate to this strange addition in his life, so long as he conducted himself properly. There would be no use having an embarrassment for a husband after all, and his age excused nothing.  He would be given lessons by the same tutor that taught his nephews, and be educated on Javier’s language and culture. No matter what his current status in society was, he was now Javier’s property before anything else.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Soon the palanquin’s gentle rocking came to a halt and was set down. He exited first, before extending his hand inside and pulling Yuzuru out. He gasped as his shoulder collided with the frame of the palanquin, but Javier _tsked_ impatiently and straightened the boy’s frame.

 

He’d been given one of the newly evacuated houses in the city, which had belonged to a rich merchant before their arrival.  It was very different from his home in Spain; wooden and low, but it was beautiful, and given Yuzuru’s economic status, would undoubtedly please him. There was also a bonsai garden that was rather beautiful in winter, and a small pond behind the building.

 

He wrapped an arm around Yuzuru’s waist, inwardly pleased by the size. Yuzuru swept a critical gaze around, seeming curious and engaged for the first time since they’d met. He led the boy up the path and through the door. His shoulders relaxed minimally when he saw that the interior had been kept Japanese; the _shoj_ _ī_ screens and tatami mats were easily visible, as well as a low tea table in the living room. He felt him tense up again as they both heard footsteps approach. When the owner came into view, he gestured at Yuzuru.

 

“Brian, this is Yuzuru. The general has given him to me as a husband. However, he knows nothing of our language nor our culture. It will be your job to act as a tutor, and as a translator until he can speak adequate Spanish. He may forget his place; don’t hesitate to let me know when it happens. Tell him what I just said,” Javier smiled genially and listened as Brian relayed this information to his new husband. Yuzuru nodded hesitantly and reluctantly bowed. Javier chuckled at that and led them to the table, now being set with lunch.

 

“You’ll be given chopsticks for now, but I’ll expect you to learn how to use a knife soon. And of course, mostly Spanish food will be served. I expect you to eat it without complaint.”

 

Brian translated and a little bit of the hope that glimmered in Yuzuru’s eyes died out. No matter, he would have to grow used to it if he was to live here. He watched expectantly as Yuzuru picked up the chopsticks laid out and tried some roasted lamb, undoubtedly spiced heavily with tastes foreign to his palate. There was a slight grimace, but the boy swallowed anyways, mouth set in a displeased moue. Satisfied that he would behave for the time being, Javier dug in and bantered jovially with Brian for the rest of the meal.

 

He cared not for the fact that Yuzuru’s plate remained largely untouched by the time the hour was over, eating was his choice and his alone. As the servants cleared their dishes away, he leant back against the wall and called one of the younger boys over. He was a local, so he called for Brian’s attention as well.

 

“Tell him that he is to lead Yuzuru to our chambers, and make him acquainted with his quarters. He does not need to bathe him, only to help him unpack his trunk, which should have arrived by now. I want him wearing the same clothes he’s wearing now when I come back in the evening. Until then, just show him around and make sure he knows the rules,” Javier instructed. He relished in the apprehension that changed Yuzuru’s face when the servant boy approached him to lead him away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Elsewhere in the city, another young boy dressed in a black hakama steals his way into a dimly lit hall, sliding the screen behind him shut, exhaling in relief as it clicks into place. It’s dark and the ceiling’s too low even for him, but he forges ahead. Third door on the right. Third door on the right. He raps three times on the frame of the _shoj_ _ī_ and waits as it slides open just enough for him to slip in.

 

Three figures robed in white rested opposite him behind a low tea table, just visible in the moonlight, and the boy breathed deep as two bodyguards slid the door shut behind him. The rough scratching of phosphorus penetrated the air, and a soft yellow light spread across the floorboards, and crept up wooden columns like twisting vines. It unveiled a young man, an old man, and a young woman. He noted, with a start, that all three of them were missing the tips of their left ring fingers. Three pairs of expectant eyes gazed at him, none of them seeming to want to open the discussion.

 

“They said I could come here to help, and that this was the only place in the city where I could have full access to information.”

 

The young woman spoke first.

 

“To gain you must lose.”

 

She slid forward a small device. The boy had seen a large version of it before; it was used to decapitate criminals in Western countries. Surely she did not mean…he glanced as their mutilated hands again and the woman catches his gaze and nods. He held it, unwavering, questioning. Her expression collapsed into contempt and looked away, as if this was a common event, as if she thought him a coward. His pride flared up, and he slid the device left, and toward himself to slot his ring finger under the blade. He looked at her, expectant. Deathly still, she stares back at him.

 

He breathed in deep, shaky, before unraveling the knot suspending the blade in the air, and let the string go. Bright, flaring pain seized his hand and one of the bodyguards suddenly had an arm around him, pressing a cloth into his mouth. He tried to scream but his voice was muffled by the gag and he felt himself grow lightheaded. His vision dimmed and the last thing he saw were drops of crimson staining the old man’s robe, and a brilliant, sinister smile.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism and any other thoughts would make me very happy! Leave them in the comments below :)


	3. Small Mercies

Yuzuru padded silently behind the youth, who could not have been much older than twelve or thirteen. Amber walls loomed up around him, claustrophobic and restricting. He took comfort in the familiar structure of the house, and the paper lamps suspended from the ceiling. A gust of wind danced through the passages, and Yuzuru tucked his hands further into the large _furisode_ sleeves. Not long after, the youth led him into a part of the house that had clearly been recently sectioned off. There was a small tea room with Western trinkets scattered all over, and a set of screens on either side. The youth pointed at the one on the left.

 

“The foreigner sleeps in there. Your room is here on the right,” he says, and opens it. Another servant appears behind him with his trunk, and sets it down just inside the door. Yuzuru takes a hesitant step inside and rears back in surprise. The room is light and airy, with several windows through which he imagines a nice spring breeze whispering though. It’s clean and well-furnished, and much bigger than his room in his old house. Clean tatami mats lined the flooring. He had not expected to be given such a room, especially after the rough way his new husband had treated him on their troublesome ride here. In fact, he had not expected to be given his own room at all; he had expected that Javier demand to share a room.

 

“The master said that you are to wear the same clothing until he returns in the evening. I am also to help you settle in. How would you like your belongings to be arranged?”

 

His attention returned to the youth, and he looked at him apprehensively for a few moments, before shaking his head.

 

“I would like to unpack on my own, if that’s alright with you,” he explained, “But tell me what you know about this household. What are they like? I’m not exactly pleased to be here you see, and your name?”

 

The servant opened his mouth and paused for a few moments before pulling the screen shut and beckoning him closer.

 

“My name is Kazuki. I don’t come from wealth either. I can’t tell you much about them because I can only understand what Brian tells me to do, but from what I can gather, Javier is a high-ranking military officer, which is why he was given this house. I think that by their own standards, they’re kind enough, but they seem to have many backward customs. They do things that are very insulting here in Japan, but I don’t think they see them the way we do. They don’t seem malicious at heart, but they are very loud and seem borderline violent at times. They have no respect for peasants.”

 

Kazuki leant back again and stepped away, as if he were waiting to be scolded for gossiping. Yuzuru patted him gently and thanked him for the information, before haltingly sending him away. He was not used to having servants, much less ordering them around. He opened his trunk and removed all of his previous clothing, before stacking them in the closet that had been provided. He placed his bracelets in a little drawer, and his books on a low table near the window. Then he leant back and looked at the last two things.

 

He had no doubt that the foreigners would laugh at the bear he had brought, but he feared that it would be taken away the most. His skates were less of a concern, his new husband was more likely to ask for a private performance than take them away, but Yuzuru was selfish and wanted to keep one of the few things that brought him joy to himself. He tucked both items far in the back of the closet, innocuously obscured by his clothing.

 

He shut the closet doors and sighed. The fury and shock of being struck had long worn off, but he felt it bubbling up again. Who was this Javier to decide whether or not he should write? Who was he to demand his name the way he did, and hurt him without apology? He was this man’s spouse, not his property! He bit his lip and fumed. Was this his life now? Playing the happy partner of a man he despised and swallowing any complaint? It was of no matter now. He bit his lip, ashamed as he remembered that is performance may mean life or death for his family.

 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by sharp rapping outside his room. He slid the screen open slowly, and was greeted by a smiling Brian on the other side.

 

“Yuzuru, right? I will show you basic rules of the house today, and give you first Spanish lesson. Please follow me,” He said in disjointed Japanese. Yuzuru had no choice but to follow the older man back through the halls and into what seemed to be an office. Brian motioned for him to sit, and he obeyed after a short inner debate.

 

“Now, I understand you may be nervous, or hurt, or angry, but none of that matter now. If you try escape, I guarantee will not end well. Besides, Javier is not difficult to please. Just learn his culture, his language, stand there and look pretty, you will be fine. He already find your look pleasing, so not much to do there. However, since you know nothing about Spain and language, I will teach you every morning for one hour. Understand?” Brian cocked an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

 

“I can’t promise anything, but I’m aware that I may jeopardize my family’s safety by stepping out of line. I did very well at school before this, and I will try my best to excel in your classes,”

Yuzuru finished with a sigh. He wasn’t sure if Brian had entirely understood, as he had his eyebrows tightly knitted, crinkling the skin between them.

 

“Excuse me if I misunderstood, but did you say you went to school?” Brian asked, a condescending lilt to his voice. Yuzuru bristled indignantly, warnings instantly arising at the thought of a culture that did not value the education of the lower classes. Tilting his chin, he nodded.

 

“Here, we do not care about your status at birth when it comes to education. We are all given our chance to work hard and rise to the station we deserve,” he said.

 

Brian seemed taken aback, but nodded resolutely.

 

“I’d suggest that you forget about that from now on, let’s start the class,” he said with a sympathetic tone. He went on to give Yuzuru a basic lesson in Spanish greetings and conversation, as well as what would be expected of him as Javier’s husband. He was surprised to learn that he would not be responsible for his husband’s meals or for cleaning the house, as the servants would do it, but he was not to question his decisions in public and was officially considered Javier’s property. The first two notions had given him hope, and a slight sense of delight, but the latter had set his veins aflame with righteous anger. The idea of being downgraded to property revolted him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Javier was not home for dinner that evening, and Yuzuru imagined he must have looked rather pathetic; he ate all alone in his snowy garment, fumbling with the new dishes.

 

As Yuzuru shifted through the halls back to his room, his new husband still yet to return, he felt the panic that had itched at him all day mount. He was no fool, he knew what was supposed to happen on someone’s wedding night. He had even looked forward to it, anticipating the thrill of sharing something so intimate with someone he cared for, and who cared for him in return.

 

The ugly reality however, was that he was cold and uncomfortable, in a strange house with strange people, and married to someone who neither respected him nor loved him. As far as he knew, had nothing in common with Javier, not even language at the moment. A crushing solitude washed over him, and realized that for the first time in his life, he was truly alone. No one could help him except himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Some hours later, he heard a set of footsteps in the shared room between the two bedrooms. A sharp knock on his door sent his heartrate into overdrive, clammy hands tugging at his clothing. He rose and opened the door to be met with Javier clad in military uniform, fist raised as if to knock again. Upon seeing Yuzuru, he reached forward and clutched his arm to lead him in the direction of his bedroom. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried to resist.

 

When he saw the bed, his breathing grew short and all plans about remaining obedient to protect his family dissipated. His voice choked and his chest grew heavy, his breathing quickened and a tremor overtook his body. His palms grew clammy with the moisture of sweat, and when he took a breath in, he realized with horror that the air remained trapped in his chest. His body convulsed, coughing violently, trying to expel the air. When it finally did, he gasped and heaved, taking in another breath. Once again, he couldn’t breathe out, and staggered until he tumbled to his knees, ripping his arm from Javier’s grasp.

 

He was distantly aware of Javier calling out to him, but none of that reached his conscious mind as he fought for air.

 

“Help! Please!” he wheezed, before collapsing into another round of coughing. His nails clawed at the fabric swimming around his thighs, clutching it ruthlessly. It was a shock when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle and pull him upright, but the relief it brought his lungs overcame his panic at being touched. He felt Javier press his cheek to his, and inhale noisily, slowly, and doing the same on his exhale. He realized what Javier was trying to do, and slowly, painstakingly, he felt his airways open, and his mind calm. Heat rose to his cheeks as he registered the position he was in, and how closely he was pressed to Javier. He shoved at his chest and fell backwards, supporting himself on his palms and hunching over as the last remnants of the attack disappeared. He saw Javier get up and leave, wondering where he had gone. Did he think of Yuzuru as defective now? Was he to be cast out and sent home? He wondered which was worse, the shame of not fulfilling his duty or staying and playing the happy spouse.

 

Brian tailed Javier when he returned.

 

“Yuzuru, what happened?”

 

“Sorry, I have asthma since I was little. I just panicked when I saw the bed, and about…my marital duties and it triggered the attack,” he explained. Brian relayed this to Javier, and the other man reared back, with a hint of chagrin on his face before exploding into rapid-fire Spanish. Brian nodded, and turned back to Yuzuru.

 

“Javi says that he is sorry he insensitive. I’m not sure how it’s done here, but back in Spain spousal rape is bad, and he perfectly willing to wait until you are ready. That’s all,” he bowed and swept out of the room.

 

Yuzuru’s mind reeled with this newfound information. In Japanese culture, this would never had happened. Much as he despised them for invading his home, he was thankful for this aspect of their culture, and for the mercy he was being shown. Crouching next to him, Javier lifted him up and began to guide him towards his room. He still hated the pitiful, condescending look on Javier’s face, as if he thought Yuzuru was weak and stupid, but the feeling warred with the fact that he had just been shown understanding, and that he did in fact feel weak and stupid.

 

Once inside his room, Javier turned him around, and very seriously said:

 

“Sumimasen.”

 

His pronunciation of the apology was slightly off, but he seemed sincere at the very least. Yuzuru nodded and bowed before shutting the door. His mind reeled with this newfound knowledge. Still overwhelmed by the recent attack, he stumbled to the bed, shedding his clothing in the process and collapsing into bed.

 

He reminded himself that this changed nothing, that Javier was still the enemy no matter what. He was still ignorant to his feelings, no matter how considerate he claimed to be. If he was in the right state of mind, he might have cried about his situation, but the fatigue running through his veins also slipped weights on his eyelids, letting him slip into a merciful sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A few miles away, a boy missing a freshly chopped finger once again stood in front of three robed figures.

 

“The general is married, and he has brought his foreigner wife with him. His entire household staff is comprised of foreigners, and his home is guarded by the army’s best. However, he has a close associate, Captain Javier Fernandez. He’s a high-ranking officer, and a favourite of the general’s. He recently took on one of the locals as spouse, name’s Hanyu Yuzuru. He also has a few locals serving him in his house. Your job for now, is simply to find a way to get in contact with one of them. Do not approach the Hanyu boy until we explicitly tell you to, he is instrumental to our success.”

 


End file.
